A Man called Perseus
by Angelinsydney
Summary: COMPLETE. Fittingly it ended with a JAM moment. High octane action. Our favourite action hero from Flashpoint flexed his muscles and used his brains to help a friend. Not what you'd expect from Flashpoint but everything you'd expect from Sam Braddock. "To Hell and Back in Twenty Four Hours" is a must-read to fully enjoy the action here. Dedicated to all Sam fans.
1. Perseus

_Author's Note: Sam's encrypted phone first appeared in the story "To Hell and Back in Twenty Four Hours." Some first world countries are known to issue this phone to their SF operatives. It doesn't matter how long the phone number stays inactive, it stays active. It only dies when the person to whom that number was issued dies. I'm not sure if Canada gives their SF operatives the same life-line but in my mind it makes perfect sense. _

_Blondie, Sam Braddock's SF nickname, was first explained in the story "Beyond This Place of Blood and Tears."_

_Winnie married Spike in the story "Hope". She left the SRU to become a crime scene investigator, Greg Parker moved on to the anti-terror special unit and Ed Lane became Sargent of Team One in the story "The Long Shadow of….." . _

_The existence of Apartment 7 was first explained in a one-shot story of the same title._

_I tend to write in a serialised model, so please read the stories as mentioned if you need back stories._

_Enjoy the ride. It would be a huge adrenaline rush with plenty to think about_.

**Perseus**

Sam Braddock always checked his phone. _The phone_. He checked it every single freaking night. He never left it on during the day though because if the darn phone comes to life, it could only mean two things: Hell has broken loose somewhere or Canada was at war.

He turned it on and a message came on, SOS and a series of numbers which he concluded could only be a set of coordinates. Only a handful of people knew his number and he knew a handful of them, people he has faith in. He returned the message, just one word, COPY. He used all caps, meaning, message received loud and clear.

Perseus was US Navy Seal. They met in Kandahar. One of a few good men he knew. It would not be an exaggeration to say there's only a handful of men (and to some extent, women) who were SF operatives. A few good soldiers get in every year, and many of their kind were buried six feet under before their prime.

True blue American of Greek ancestry, hence his nickname Perseus. But that wasn't the reason he picked that for himself. In his usual deprecating humour, he explained it was because he was a "bastard son and proud of it. My Mom's a goddess."

On his birth certificate, it says Alexander Stranopoulous. He grew up in Tarpon Springs, Florida from a long-line of divers. His ancestors were sponge divers from the Greek isles of Kalymnos. His maternal great- great-grandfather arrived in the US in the 1920s to work in the sponge diving industry. His maternal great-grandfather inherited the job in 1940s and then joined the US Navy when WWII erupted. His grandfather was still fishing and diving until the 1980s. That was where the line ended as far as he was concerned.

He never knew his father. In his mind, the man who spawned him was the bastard, not him. In spite of the public shame, his mother kept him, loved him, and liked him, which was incredibly empowering. He remembered telling a friend once, "Sometimes it's better to be liked than loved."

Alex grew up with the self-confidence of a god, thanks to his Grandfather who actually looked like one. He inherited his facial features from "Pappous", slightly elongated with prominent squared chin, deep-set brown eyes, thick eyebrows, a perfect nose and wavy brown hair which he kept long and tied in a ponytail. A cleft chin gave his face a charming appearance.

He was 12 when he decided he wanted to become an elite soldier, in part because of re-runs of Chuck Norris' "Delta Force" movie. He was 18 when he enlisted in the Navy; 22 when he tried out for the Navy Seals for the first time and failed to make the cut; 24 when he tried again and passed. In celebration, the ponytail disappeared in place of a shaved head. Perseus was born.

Sam checked the coordinates. Perseus was inside Canadian territory, in the wilderness of Rupert's Land_. How the hell did he get there? Hiking expedition gone wrong?_ Braddock, Blondie to his SF buddies, needed to know for sure. He called Spike, SRU Team One, tech wizard.

Spike's phone was on silent, he was alerted to the phone ringing when his three-legged golden retriever, Moppet Bridget Scarlatti barked. A split second later Liley Lewis Scarlatti, a Canadian Eskimo dog howled. "Alright, already…" he said.

Sam's handsome face was displayed on his phone, "This better be good, Braddock. You interrupted my evening."

Braddock laughed, "Who you kidding? Win must still be at the forensic lab, it's only 8."

Spike sighed, "I'm not liking this. Since she joined CSI, I hardly see her anymore. I'm gonna go on strike," he said cheekily. "anyway, I'm sure you didn't call to chat about my love life."

"Nope. Spike, d'ya have a way to find out if an Alexander Stranopoulous entered Canada, legally?"

"Yeah... but I need more than a name."

"Confidential," was Sam's curt reply.

"Ooook, pretty sure I don't wanna know what you're up to anyway... but can you give me a hint… at least."

"Sorry, no."

"Ok…call you right back. You're lucky I'm at Apartment 7."

Spike turned on his CSIS issued super computer. The Techie worked on a consultancy basis with the country's intelligence office, a top secret commission for which he was heavily vetted. He searched for Alexander Stranopoulos, found none. If his man is in-country it was via Canada's porous border and by stealth.

He called Sam, "If he's in-country, he's invisible."

"Thanks Spike. I owe you."

"Don't mention it. And, um.. Sam, stay sharp. If you need me, I've got your back."

"Thanks."

Sam's next call was to Ed Lane, the new Boss of Team One. He didn't want to say much other than a friend needed his help and that he **must** go to his rescue. The Boss didn't press for any explanation. Sam was owed two months leave and as far as he was concerned, he could take all of 60 days off if he wanted to.

"Stay sharp," was all he said.

"Copy."

Lane stared at his phone for a good 15 seconds, wondering if this was another Jake Drury fiasco in the making.

Sam called Jules, it went to voice mail. "Jules, I'm goin away for a few days. Catch ya later."

Braddock turned off his phones. Opened a secret floor panel under his bed and removed a holdall, his survival kit and arsenal. He went to the kitchen, opened a tin of biscuit, and tipped the contents. He pocketed some coins and attached a newish Suunto Core All Black Military wrist watch on his left arm.

Sam changed into a body-fitted long sleeve T, denim pants, thick woollen socks and water proofed gortex combat boots. He overlaid his T with a water proofed parka. He patted himself. _Encyrpted phone_, check. _Personal phone_, check_. Badge_, check. _Wallet_, check. _Car key_, check. He shouldered his holdall, and on the way out, grabbed his elite, silver bow and a quiver with a dozen arrow shafts. He was all set for war!

"Hang in there, buddy. I'm comin." He was grim faced, Perseus better not die on him. He couldn't contemplate another Jake.

Jules came out of the shower. She immediately listened to the message. It seemed like it wasn't anything to worry about but the voice and the tone…._I've heard that before_. They made her cringe inwardly, she called him back it went to voicemail. It would be many sleepless nights.


	2. Speed Dial a Friend

_Author's Note: The news report quoted in this chapter was lifted verbatim from the online content of the Province. Copyright is owned by the The StarPhoenix, a known Canadian publication. You may want to skip the news report however it is integral to the story and to Sam's rescue strategy _

_JTF2 is one of the most secretive Commando Units in the world, little is known about them._

**Speed Dial a Friend**

Sam tossed his holdall, bow and arrow into the backseat of his open-topped jeep; covered these with a canvas tarpaulin. He climbed in, checked the time as he turned the ignition, 23:00.

Braddock left Special Forces about five years ago but Special Forces never left him. He made it a point to stay on top of things; and had an ear on the news, both those made public and those kept private through secure channels. It was clear to Sam that Perseus himself was on top of things – hence why he chose to make himself invisible in the Canadian freezer north of Toronto.

**August 25, 2012** – "Elite Commando Force Slips from Shadows" was the banner headline of **The Province**'s broadsheet paper and its online content. Part of the news report said:

"_The Canadian Forces brought out of the shadows its elite special forces unit Friday, putting Joint Task Force 2 on display for Prime Minister Stephen Harper on a day when the prime minister said the military could - and would - be ready to defend the North's abundant natural resources._

_The unprecedented view of and access to the highly secretive JTF-2, whose members' names and faces are not publicly known, was the first time the elite unit put on a public demonstration of its capabilities, boarding a moving vessel by sea and air in Hudson Bay in a prepared scenario where a suspected terrorist was aboard an ecotourism vessel headed for Canada._

_JTF-2 has been involved in operations in Afghanistan, Zaire, Haiti and Rwanda, but has largely been kept out of the public eye. For years, the military wouldn't even acknowledge the unit existed, even though it became a Canadian Forces unit in 1993. Even today, the military won't confirm or deny questions about the unit's involvement in missions._

_"This is a tier-one (special operations force) organization that is unparalleled with any of our global partners," said Brig.-Gen. Denis Thompson, who oversees the special operations forces section of the military, which includes JTF-2._

_"They're pretty proud of themselves and they ought to be. They're not in the public eye - as you know - and probably will never be for a whole bunch of operational security reasons. But it's important for them to be seen to be contributing to Canada's overall defence because a lot of what we do is in the shadows."_

_The Prime Minister's Office encouraged the military to have JTF-2 involved in Operation Nanook, and asked the military to allow the media to watch the unit in action. When asked if the Canadian public could expect more displays given how Friday's event went, Thompson said: "I don't think that's necessarily the conclusion I would make."_

_The demonstration wrapped up the military's annual Northern exercise, known as Operation Nanook. Harper, Defence Minister Peter MacKay and Canada's top soldier, Gen. Walt Natynczyk watched JTF-2 close up on the last day of Harper's annual tour of the North. Harper has long been an advocate for a beefed up presence in the North, going back to his days in opposition, and his previous trips to Canada's North have involved multi-million dollar military investments, but he had largely avoided talking about the military on this trip, focusing more on the development of natural resources."_

There were more to the news report but those weren't of any importance to Sam. All that mattered was there was an active military presence in the North, right now, which meant one thing, Sam Braddock would have access to hardware. He sensed Perseus didn't have the luxury of time on his side therefore he must get to him as soon as possible. _Time to pull in a favour_, Sam pressed speed dial Number 1 on his secure phone, the man on the other end simply said, "Affirmative."

Sam drove about 350 km (220 mi) to the Canadian Forces Base North Bay, also called CFB North Bay. The base is the centre for North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) operations in Canada and also home to the 1 Air Force, Detachment 2 of the United States Air Force. He, Blondie, was going to get himself a night lift to the Freezer.

He arrived at the Gate, "Samuel Braddock," he announced to the sentry. The young man, barely out of his teens saluted. Sam smiled, "I'm a civilian." The pimply enlisted Air Force personnel smiled back tightly and directed him to the hanger, "Lieutenant James Miller is waiting for you, Sir."

"Thanks," was all he said. There was no point telling him to be at ease.

He drove through the hanger and was met by a mean looking wrecking machine. His two front teeth were missing and his biceps were the size of leg ham. "Fuck me," he said as he lifted the blonde off the ground, Lt Miller, nicknamed Ham, towered over Sam by half a foot.

"You're out of this shit. So what brings you back?"

"To be honest with you, buddy, I don't know. Just respondin' to a SOS from an old comrade," he said. That was all he had to say, and there were no questions asked.

"Night flight was cancelled – even for us bastards – there are unacceptable risks. A Unit is flying north at 0500 hrs. Meantime, I can put you up in the officers' quarters." Sam felt lucky, he didn't fancy flying in a Sikorsky helicopter in the dead of night, especially not into the Freezer.

Ham and Blondie walked to the officer's quarters. "How's your old man?"

"Same old, same old," was Sam's uninformative reply. "I don't get to catch up with him often.

The room was Spartan. A bed. A table and chair. A wall shelf graced by a couple of books was the extent of the décor. The Lieutenant homed in to a bar fridge and grabbed a couple of cold beer, tossed one at Sam which he caught easily. They toasted to old times.

"I heard you're with SRU?"

Sam nodded, the friendly fire death of his best friend Ben in Kandahar was an open book story in the JTF. "After my last tour of Afghanistan, the General asked if I'd be interested to take up police work. I couldn't bear to return to my old unit, although they had no objections… I just couldn't." He swigged another mouthful of the beer. "But I also couldn't just hang around making a mess of myself."

"I thought about it for a week, when I told the General I was willing to give it a go he made arrangements…," Sam paused.

James heard the non-verbal cue, "And... so," he encouraged.

"Well, there were people ahead of me in the queue. Guys who've been in the Force for three years … the minimum to try out for the SRU. The Team accepted me, no problem, but those who were bypassed weren't happy. I don't blame them. They think it's because of my old man."

James knew what it was like for Sam, "Man, it's been your cross to bear since forever." They grew up in the same Military base, joined at around the same time **because** they wanted to become fighting men but try convincing other people of that. After a year, they gave up trying and now couldn't give a rat's ass.

Sam sat on the sparse bed, leaned his head on the knuckles of his hands, "Dya know why I tried out for SF?"

"I can hazard a guess" replied James, "but why don't you tell me?"

"Cause my Dad wasn't one. He became an officer via the intelligence channel. He commanded his men from the backroom, never on the field. I wanted to make my mark where he hadn't been."

"And that's why I fly because my old man was in the engineer's corp. He maintained the helis, I fly them." They smiled at each other.

"You know the older I become, the more grateful I am for my upbringing. My Father taught me to be a leader, to question, to think for myself but he also taught me to listen." Sam smiled meaningfully, "I drove my Boss up the wall when I was a newbie at SRU. I butted heads with my Team Leader. I was always questioning and challenging the rules of engagement, luckily they had a lot of patience with me."

Changing the topic, Sam asked, "Have you found someone special?"

"Nah, too busy fighting other people's war and with two missing front teeth, the chances of that are zilch," replied the Lieutenant.

Sam chuckled, "Don't tell me the Military is cutting down on dentistry?"

"Nah, I just broke two yesterday at a jumping exercise from 9,000 feet. It'll get them fixed sometime…. But I'm afraid of dentists."

"Fuck," said Sam laughing. The F word: one of several SF's universal words. Didn't matter if your Spetnaz, Spetzcop, SAS, JTF, Delta or Seal, it's the word that to them expressed joy, sadness, fear, disinterest and everything in between. One word fits all.

"What about you? Found love yet?"

"Yeah, I've got someone. She's also with SRU. It's becoming more and more real for me. It's crossed my mind to get married and have kids." Sam continued, "I suppose when I have kids, I'll raise them the same way I was raised but with one exception: My kids will call me Dad, not Sir."

"Fuck me, if you're thinking of kids, you must be up for it soon."

Braddock shrugged. "It will happen when it happens."

"Will you change career when it happens… I mean, shit man, who wants to get married, have kids when your face is always decorating someone's cross hairs?"

"I came close to shifting career last year. SRU has a strict rule about team mates not fraternising but in the end they gave us permission to go ahead."

"What would you have done?"

"The General heard about the problem from Top command, he called me in for a chat and offered me a posting. He said if I wanted to I can have it." Sam smiled conspiratorially at James, "Canada's Military Attache to NATO."

Miller laughed, "Part strategist, part negotiator, part soldier and part intelligence officer. In other words spook. Shit man, and you should have taken it – you could have been wearing a Tuxedo."

"Come on, Ham. He knew the minute he said it I wouldn't take it. He was a good sport about it. That's his forte: Intelligence. My forte is in the field. There was no way I'd take it."

"We better get some sleep." Miller got up to leave, "See ya at 0450 hrs. East hanger."

James Miller walked to his own officer's quarters. It was always good to catch up with Samuel Braddock. They understood each other well. They were sons of their fathers, both high ranking military men; but they were also their own person. Nobody told them what to do unless they were willing to do it and it was what they wanted to do.

Joining the military was not an easy choice for either of them, because whilst they joined to follow their own dreams, it was tainted by footsteps taken before them. They had to side-step those footsteps to find their own path, yet they have to keep proving themselves every time.

Alone in his overnight refuge, Sam undressed and tuck himself to sleep. He was light's out instantly. He didn't even set the alarm on his Suunto. The early morning noise at 0400 hrs would wake him from slumber and then it's Game On!


	3. Aboard the Sea King

Aboard the Sea King

0400 – A god and someone not quite god but not quite mortal woke up almost at the same time from different geographical coordinates.

Perseus checked the package and smiled, a handsome smile that disguised the fear he's been trying to subdue, trying to force its way up to the surface. He couldn't afford to let fear win, not now when he was so close to getting the help he needed. It has been one hell of a journey but he held on to the Navy Seal's motto: The only easy day was yesterday.

The night he arrived with help from friends, he's checked himself into an obscure bed and breakfast for no other reason than he needed to be sort of out of the way in case it got noisy but also because he needed to entrust a package to another friend. In his former line of work, friends had been hard to keep but those you keep were for life. He would keep calling for favours until he reached the point of no return or he's home safe.

Blondie heard distant footsteps coming towards his quarters. He rolled out of bed, grabbed for his pants. He was tucking his shirt in when Ham's familiar voice cut through the flimsy door, "Sam, you up?"

"Come in," Ham opened the door and dropped two holdalls on the floor. "You need to repack, man, you're a little rusty my friend. You need arctic survival kit."

Sam nodded, "Thanks," he opened the one that didn't look familiar, the contents spilled out. He lifted a white arctic suit. And what has he got? A camo net! What good was a camo net in a winter wonderland terrain. James looked at him dead straight with furrowed brows, "Ya up for this?" He took one step towards Sam, "Level with me, man, whatever you're involved in….I think we should send a search and rescue team in. You've been out of the game too long, my friend."

Braddock sighed, "I don't know what it's about – it's not official business. So if I'm goin' down, I'm not takin' anyone with me. Someone needs my help. He wouldn't ask if he didn't need it." He focused on the equipment he'd need to survive the Freezer, he looked up again, "You've done enough. See ya in half an hour."

Ham turned to leave and then turned back, "You can at least tell me who it is?"

"Perseus."

"The Greek god? Navy Seal?" Ham opened the door and took his leave. Yeah, he wouldn't ask unless it's life and death situation. He hoped Sam wasn't walking into trouble with the Council of the gods.

Sam kitted himself with thermal underwear; water-proofed and breathable. For his top, he chose long-sleeved stretchable T and finally his combat fatigue. He repacked his survival kit. Sleeping bag, check. All white arctic parka, check. Military-grade micro grappling hook, check. Grappling hook gun, check. Spare gloves, check. Glock, check. Ammunition, check. Silencer, check. Stun grenades, check. Binoculars, check. K-bar knife, check. Fifty metres climbing rope, check. Karibiners and prussiks, check. Ninja throwing stars, check.

Convinced he had all he needed, he put on his combat boots, knee guards, black pair of gloves and his Military vest. He shouldered him holdall, left the surplus kit for Ham to secure and moved his ass to the East hanger.

0445 - The Sea King was ready for boarding. Sam went to his jeep to retrieve his military-grade telescopic bow and his quiver of arrow sheaths. The rationale for the bow and arrow was simple, if it was just up to him and Perseus, this was going to be very quiet. Gunfire and stuff that go bang tended to cause avalanches. They would have to keep this contained if they didn't want unnecessary collateral damage.

0500 – Two pilots, one navigator, and one airborne electronic sensor operator boarded the helicopter. The rotor started up, it was deafening. It has been loaded the night before, on lift-off including passengers, it would traverse the sky with over 18,000 lbs (around 8,000 kgs) of cargo. Stripped down to its basic components, it flew the crew without any comfortable features. Its powerful engines were modified so it could fly a distance in excess of 1,800 km (1,200 mi, give or take). Braddock and twelve JTF-2 Commandos moved to board the Sikorsky CH-124 Sea King, this awesome flying machine had never ceased to amazed him. Their destination was Her Majesty's Canadian Ship Unicorn stationed about 1,300 kilometres off the coast of Hudson Bay.

Sam hooked himself onto the roof of the heli, and leaned on some of the boxed cargoes. It's been one hell of a life-time ago when he used to criss-cross on flying metal coffins, being sniped at with rocket propelled grenades and missiles.

He checked the time. He felt his heart thumped against his chest cavity. At maximum speed of 166 mph (267 km/h), it would take around seven hours to reach Hudson Bay. Not fast enough but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

0600 – Perseus scoped the surrounding environment from his second storey room, he could almost sense the predators. How many? He couldn't know until he could lure them out and away from the package but he couldn't do that just yet.

He led them here because he knew this landscape. This was his playground when his old Unit used to train for arctic conditions, year after year after year. He hoped whoever was sent after him and however many, were not at home in winter wonderland. It would be nice to have the upper hand for a change.

The Greek god mentally calculated Sam's probable time of arrival. He sent the SOS to the former JTF warrior last night. The best case scenario would be 24 hours. Worst case scenario, he would be dead before Sam reached him, but whatever the outcome, the package must be secured.

0700 – Perseus ordered room service and ate for three people. He didn't know when he'd able to get food down him again once he leaves the bed and breakfast, best to fuel up while he could. When room service came, he asked for a horse to be readied at 0900. A snow mobile would be ideal but that tended to run out of gas at just the wrong time.

He ate in peace and checked the weather online. This was no time to second guess whether his message was received, he must leave this morning to keep the package safe, then, come hell or high water, he would face them all to the death!


	4. Wherever You May Be

_Author's Note: I took great care to research the Inuit culture. If I got some things wrong, I mean no harm and mean no disrespect. I take the issue of tradition and culture very strongly. _

**Wherever You May Be**

**0900** – Perseus made a move. He secured the package, making sure it was snug. He smiled, "You ok?" The package now swaddled in comfortable wraparound, he placed it in a backpack and strapped it onto his back. He had no time to lose. The weather would be holding up nice. The forecaster said so and more importantly, his knowledge of the environment told him so. He was taught by the best - his Inuit mentor.

The Greek checked his compass again, he was headed to the southern tip of Hudson Bay and If Samuel Braddock got it right, he would arrive at the same place not long from now.

Special Forces training required becoming familiar with the sky, the sea and the land. They trained in urban settings, in the arctic, desert, hinterland, in the mountain ranges, and the seas. And they trained with the locals. The locals meant the natives of the land.

NZSAS trained with Maori warriors on the business art of tracking and bush survival. The Australian SAS with the aborigines. First-hand knowledge was passed on from one SF to another in joint training exercises. And when the world's finest soldiers needed to learn survival tactics in arctic condition, they learned it first-hand from the Inuit.

Inuit origins in Canada date back at least 4,000 years. Their culture is deeply rooted in the vast land they inhabit. For thousands of years, Inuit closely observed the climate, landscapes, seascapes and ecological systems of their immense homeland.

Perseus would be passing the package to Ahnah, Inuit for wise woman. She was Mother to SF warriors. They looked up to her, one of many who shared with them the intimate knowledge of the land and its life forms. She and her people have been part of their extended family.

He came out to find a good looking horse tethered outside the cabin. He checked it for any injuries, made sure it was fit to take him where he was going. Satisfied, he got on the horse's back and used the rein to guide it to head south. Perseus mentally prepared himself for the hard slog; he knew what he was up against. He's experienced biting cold many times before and survived it, but the package was another story. He wasn't a praying man – but today he prayed that everything would be ok.

He concentrated on the way forward, it seemed like a long, long way away but in reality it was only about two and half hours on horseback in the snow. Luckily, it wasn't yet knee-deep.

**1100** – Perseus reached the sanctuary of Ahnah's igloo. She came out, she had been expecting him. They pressed the tips of their noses together in a greeting called kunik. He remembered one cultural immersion in the early days when she laughingly told a group of SF that a common misconception by outsiders was that the practice arose so Inuit could kiss without their mouths freezing together. She explained, "It is a non-erotic form of greeting for people who, when they meet, often have little except their nose and eyes exposed."

In the warmth of the igloo, they drank tea, "an acquired taste," said Ahnah. Perseus laughed light-heartedly, "You could have acquired something far worse." It's been many years but it seemed like yesterday when he was last squatting inside this very same igloo learning at the feet of a wise woman.

They huddled in the quiet, talking in respectful whisper. She listened intently and finally said she understood. "I'm sorry to drag you into this." He said sounding almost remorseful that he came all this way and perhaps unwittingly brought her grief.

She said, "If you didn't ask for help then I would be really angry with you. It would mean you don't trust me to be on your side."

She blessed him, his eyes never leaving the package swaddled in Ahnah's arms until he had to turn to go on his way.

**1200** – Sam Braddock heard the voice in his headset, "Blondie, 45 minutes to drop off." He opened his eyes; he managed to go to sleep. He unhooked himself to sort his kit again. He rechecked every item as he carefully transferred his survival gear in a Bergen (military backpack). As a precaution, he chose to carry his military bow across the front of his chest he couldn't risk it being damaged. Count down has begun. Ham's voice entered his consciousness, "Ten minutes."

Braddock would not be dropping off on the battleship Unicorn, he needed to make land. It's been a long time since he dropped from the sky with 35 kgs of gear strapped to his front. But he kept up his sky diving skills as often as he could at the Base.

"Two minutes."

The parachute and oxygen bottle had been securely strapped to him prior to boarding. His bow now across his chest, his gear strapped down his front along with a pair of skis. The 12 men unit acknowledged him with two thumbs up. The light turned on, the door opened and Sam took his position. He would perform the HAHO (High Altitude High Opening) technique at 14,000 ft. This technique would allow for a longer travel distance due to increase canopy time. During covert insertion, SF units were able to travel distances of more than 40 miles (64km).

HAHO was typically done at 30,000-27,000 ft (roughly 8,700 m). But today Braddock would do this at 14,000 ft. He would open his chute within 10 seconds of his jump, use a GPS device to guide him as he glide down to earth for many miles. He estimated he was 15 miles off course from drop off to drop zone. As he cruises the sky, he would use way points and terrain features to navigate to his desired landing zone, and correct his course to account for changes in wind speed and direction.

The light turned from red to green, it was time, his feet left the solid interior of the Sikorsky and felt the wind whip him about as he free fall for 10 seconds. Nothing in his personal experience would match the adrenaline rush of fear mixed with excitement surging throughout his body as he HAHO'd and HALO'd (High Altitude Low Opening) at 30,000 ft in his previous life.

Ten seconds, his chute opened, the silk canopy ballooning above him. He toggled at the chute using both hands as he checked his GPS strapped to his chest. He was bearing down at the right coordinate. The steady wind was holding and soon he would be in the esteemed presence of Ahnah. He called her Wise Woman in the early days. She was patient with her him as she explained she preferred to be called by her Inuit name, Ahnah. He stood corrected.

He lost track of time as he concentrated on looking for a landing zone, but within minutes he was back on Terra firma. He unstrapped the chute and covered it with snow under some trees. He put on the skis and surveyed the land that stretched forever all about him. The view was breathtaking, blanketed in white and the air was crisp. He put his goggles on, took a deep breath and kicked off with one leg to ski down slope, crouched low to reduced drag.

To the untrained eyes, there was nothing that stood out of the landscape but there was a land mark for people like Sam Braddock. He would recognise it anywhere in the world. He could see the shape of the igloo materialise in his mind before his eyes could see it. He slowed when finally its shape came to view. _Ahnah_, he thought. He felt an excitement to see their mother. The mother they all share.

**1400 ** – "Ahnah," he called outside the igloo. She came out and they pressed their noses together in greetings. "Perseus asked to meet with me here."

She held his hand as she led him in, "He has left to face his enemies but there's something he needs you to take care of for him."

"What is it?" the suspense was killing him.

"Him," she said.

A baby boy, about a year old he thought (but what did he know) with tufts of blonde hair and pale blue eyes.

"What the…" He was stunned. He looked at the baby boy and then at Ahnah, the look on his face was so funny that she laughed out loud. "It's nothing to be afraid of, it's just a baby. It won't bite, I promise."

They huddled over tea, speaking almost in whispers as Ahnah relied to him Jason Argos Apostolou's tale of survival. Sam listened intently, "All he asked of you is to take his boy to safety; and if he doesn't make it out alive to lend your name to him."

He looked directly at Ahnah's eyes trying to search for wisdom. Eventually, he said, "If you would permit me, I'd like to leave him with you so I could help his father."

The wise woman smiled, "I would have been disappointed if you didn't... help him, I mean."

The blonde warrior stood up, looked northward, _Leave no one behind_. _Wherever you may be, my friend, I would come to your rescue._

He looked back to Ahnah and smiled at little Jason, outside he fitted the skis back on his feet._ If the weather holds_ and he could tell that it would, he would be side-by-side with the Greek god before the sky darkened.

He propelled himself and Ahnah said a prayer to the Spirit of the Wild.


	5. JTF-2

_Author's Note: On 26 June, 2012, the US congressional Research Service said that the US has about 63,000 Special Forces Personnel across all military services; not included in this vast number were support personnel from all four military services. In comparison, the UK-SF has but a few thousand within the ranks of the SAS, SBS and the very little known unit called the Pathfinders. Canada's Joint Task Force-2 is rumoured to have around 350; rumoured because no one would either confirm or deny this number. _

_I hope to make it clear to Canada's Department of Defence I'm nothing to worry about. My research was for the sole purpose of writing a fictional story and besides I didn't find much information. _

**JTF-2**

It was going to be hard-going. Cross country skiing with 35 kgs of gear on his back, dressed like a sumo wrestler in an all-white parka suit was never ideal. But on the upside, the weather was holding up and if he was going to make it to Perseus' cabin, he didn't have time to flap about.

Sam estimated it would take him at least two hours. He's not exactly rusty. He maintained his skiing skills every winter just as he maintained his sky diving skills as often as he could. He put his JTF-2 cap back on and pulled every mental resource he had. At Special Forces training it was drilled into them that it was always mind over matter. Well, right now, he just had to ignore the weight that's digging on his shoulder blades and the distance he had to cover.

Commandos all had to learn to ski. And, not just learned to do it well but also do it fast. They trained only with the best in the business. He wasn't Olympics or world standard, but he could do a respectable 15-18 km per hour on skis; not bad considering the average speed in the men's sprint in the World Nordic Ski championship was 20 km per hour. And these men trained hard, doing an average of 50, up to a hundred sprints during workouts.

Cross country skiing could be classed as an extreme sport on its own. One of the world's longest cross country races has been held in Forestville, Quebec, Canada, the Boreal Loppet has a race loop of 100 km. Every year, since 2005 when the race was inaugurated till the present, Braddock had been a participant along with a handful of Commandos.

Sam wasn't concerned about the dangers of frostbite or fatigue or even the risks of getting lost. He was more concerned with injury. Falling over and getting tangled with skis and poles after a fall or sudden maneuver would be a death sentence in the great white wash-out. His all-white arctic suit would ensure he became a permanent part of the terrain til summer reveals his skeleton. He would have to be very, very careful and yet still maintain his speed.

He focused his mind on the scenery. Every now and then, he checked with GPS locator and double checked this with where the shadows fell. He was still north bound. He wondered what the hell Perseus got himself into and who the hell was that baby. If Perseus had a son, he'd have heard about it. He wouldn't keep it a secret. There was more to this story…

Perseus got back to the cabin in one piece. The horse did well to get him to Ahnah and back again without once whining in protest. He made sure the owner was well compensated.

The Greek settled into his room confident that Blondie has the boy. _Tomorrow, they would be well away._ The thought lightened his spirit and helped cleared his mind. He made sure his trackers knew where he was going, but gave himself a 24 hour head start. He knew from operational experience that the Team sent after the baby would have landed in the Freezer by now and if not, soon – very soon. The thought raised his hackles. He was filled with foreboding. In war time, soldiers develop a heightened sense of danger and that ability had stayed with him.

He hasn't lost his operational skill set though he's been but a humble fisherman in the last four years. It was like getting back on a bicycle. The reality was he would have preferred to have left soldiering life behind him. But Fate had him in its sight; his life was a long, unending saga of Greek tragedy in epic proportion. Now, Fate also had the baby in its strangle-hold. _Poor thing._

Ahnah looked at the baby boy adoringly. She blessed him with an Inuit name, Oomailiq, the literal translation being leader of the whaling boat. "You're going to be a leader of men," she said to him as he babbled away happily in the cot. She made a decision to raise the child as her own grandson. "There was no need to send you away just to keep you safe." She thought that here in Hudson Bay, in the frozen landscape of Rupert's Land, this baby would be safer than anywhere else.

Alexander Stranopolous and Sam Braddock need not concern themselves. After all, she has her own private army paid for by the Department of Defence. She smiled, leaned over baby Jason and raised a finger, "One phone call," she said, "My Commandos would be at my doorstep wherever they may be stationed. I'm not their Mother for no reason."

Sam glanced at the time briefly. It's been an hour since he left Ahnah, he has made good distance. _I'd be in the cabin soon_. But "soon" was a relative term. Realistically, it was still an hour to go. He was starting to feel fatigued. He refused to give in to the thought of stopping and resting. It would be suicidal to give in to the desire to rest.

His mind wandered back to JTF-2 pre-selection training. It wasn't for the faint-hearted. No one made it through unless one desired it for himself. It was a test of commitment as much as a test of human physical endurance.

The minimum physical requirement for pre-selection was the ability to run 1.45 miles in 9 minutes and 45 seconds max; perform 40 continuous push-ups, 40 continuous sit-ups, 5 continuous pull-ups, and then bench press a 65 kgs weight. Candidates received 11 points for each required set but must achieve aggregate points of 75, which meant that just to be pre-selected he/she must do well above the minimum standard set. Only two out of 10 would pass muster but pre-selection he would later learn was the easy bit.

Once commando training commenced it was akin to living every day in a never-ending physical, emotional, psychological torturous existence. The endurance training was designed to prepare the Commando to survive under any condition in any hostile environment, often behind enemy lines. JTF-2 bills itself, "a scalpel, not a hammer." These commandos would slice through enemy defences quietly and unnoticed; a sharp, surgical edge to the country's foreign policy.

JTF-2 was so named because it was Mach 2. The first was an "ad hoc unit" that served a short stint in the Persian Gulf. The second incarnation happened in 1993 when Canada created a counterterrorism force. The Globe and Mail reported, "_In its nearly two decades of existence, JTF 2 is not known to have fired a shot in the course of any domestic operation – nor has there been a terrorist attack on Canadian soil to warrant that kind of response." _JTF-2 was deployed within Canada only twice in its 20-year history – the Vancouver Olympics and the G8/G20 summits, where the elite soldiers lurked unobtrusively in sites surrounding the events.

So he, Samuel Braddock, has a rich distinguished history both militarily and as a human being. He was committed to help a friend but also determined not to tarnish his human rights record of not killing for killing sake.

He checked the time. He was very close, half an hour to go. He pushed on, telling himself he was not even close to his personal best. _Plenty in the tank,_ but his stomach was telling him to refuel. _Later,_ he scolded himself. _Soon._

Perseus checked his gear, a mixed of lethal and non-lethal. Truthfully, there was no such thing as non-lethal, once he killed a man with a can opener. His aim was not to kill. His aim was to be persuasive. He would kill with his open palm and knuckles if he had to, that is, if they couldn't be persuaded to let go and let live. It wasn't their war anyway, why should they care to die for the cause? But there was one person – just one – that was different. That one was personal. _Tonight it ends_.

He was done packing, now he needed nourishment. He called for room service, ordered food for three. He had just replaced the phone back on its cradle when heard a soft knock on the door. He paused, then padded softly towards the door, pressed his back against the wall next to it, "Who is it?" he asked calmly.

"Blondie," came the reply.

_What the hell?_ He opened the door, Braddock stepped in unceremoniously, "I'm hungry, is there food to eat?"

"Fuck me, didn't you get the message? You're not supposed to be here."

"Good to see you, too."

Sam mentally assessed the Greek. _He hasn't lost his mojo_. The shoulder-length wavy hair was back but had gone salt and pepper. The brown eyes were still bright and the arms still packing muscles.

Alex smiled despite the unexpected visit, "You wanna know why…"

"Yeah…But I'm not a good listener when I'm hungry."

They ordered more food. Over delicious meal of caribou meat and home-baked bread and salad and a bottle of red, the Greek told Sam the story of who Jason Argos Apostolou really was. When he finished his story, Sam wondered if the Greek gods may not have had a hand it all of it. It sounded like Greek mythology, twenty first century edition.

_If you want to find out little Jason's story, read the next chapter – coming soon._


	6. Jason's Story

**Jason's Story**

Sam and Alex ate quickly, as they would on regular operations. Time was of the essence so they chewed their food rather indelicately and swallowed. Tasting and savouring food were for another time and another place. Their plates were empty in 10 minutes, in between sips of red wine, Sam relaxed to listen to Alex's story.

Alex's brown orbs stared at Sam's blues. The Greek swiped his face with his calloused hand, looked down and then up the ceiling, "I'm not sure who's the father." He pause waiting for Sam to catch on, the blonde nodded as if to say "Go on."

Sam smirked, it's funny that men like them had no issues facing up to the Taliban and inserting themselves in the middle of exploding situations but telling a story felt like a discourse in rocket science.

"Mom married a nice guy when I was 10, they had a son. Um, I had a step-brother… a baby brother at 15. Mom was just 18 when she had me, 33 when she had George. I kept my mother's last name, George had Dad's. " Sam twigged on, _That explained Apostolou_.

"George was only three when I joined the Army so I just saw him every now and then, on furlough, til I left Navy Seals four years ago. Growing up, we were strangers to each other but friendly. I liked the kid.. I loved him and he… he sort of hero-worshipped me." _Liked, loved… past tense_. Sam made a mental note.

"I returned home after a 20-year absence. The three-year old boy was now a 23-year old SWAT, married to the prettiest girl in the block." Alex leaned on his face on his hands which rested on his knees. He was struggling to breathe. For the first time, he was confessing his treachery. Sam sensed his friend's agony. He didn't say a word, afraid to even sigh; he didn't want to interrupt his friend's confession_. It's time for the maggot eating him inside to come out._

"Anyway, I went back to doing what I knew… went back to diving and fishing. I saved enough to buy a fishing boat. But fishing… it's seasonal, you know. There were times I had too much time on land and George was always busy." He looked at Sam, "Elite police work… you know."

Sam answered, "Yeah I know. The hours, the crap,… yeah, I know." Braddock could tell where this was heading. He came as a friend and he would leave as a friend. Alex didn't need a Judge.

"I was there for her; and she for me." Alex could tell Sam was reading between the lines, "I'm not proud of it. Fuck, buddy, every time my brother was in the same room I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. He didn't deserve it." The Greek looked broken up, remorseful. Guilt had been eating him up and it was quite a burden to carry even on a former Navy Seal's broad shoulders.

Braddock stood up and placed a sympathetic hand on Alex's shoulder. It bothered him to see his friend looked so vulnerable. He always appeared tough and together. Finally he asked, "Why are you on the run with Jason?" He needed to be assured he wasn't aiding and abetting a parental kidnapping.

Alex's eyes glazed over. "George's SWAT team received an order to raid a house – the intel was it was being used to warehoused chemicals for drugs manufacturing; they were given the schematics, told they were about a dozen fully armed men inside. Their order was `Go'."

"George was the Team Leader…"

Alex visibly gulped, the hand holding the flute shook slightly, "The intel was correct but no one knew that the head was at the house with his six-month old son. I mean, who in their right mind brings a baby to inspect a warehouse?"

"The round-up was going well, floor by floor, square inch by square inch, until George reached the office. The head guy, he's Chinese, was clutching this bundle close to his chest. George didn't know what it was. The Chinese guy fired at George. My brother instinctively fired back, aimed at the chest. The guy was wearing a bullet-proof vest over his clothes. The order was to apprehend the guy alive so he fired at the chest."

Alex gasped for air, "The next thing my brother saw was blood and guts splattering everywhere. The baby's…" he said breathlessly in a whisper. Sam closed his eyes, _My God_. He couldn't imagine what the bullet had done to the baby's skull.

"There was an investigation, George was cleared. A month later he and Rachel were ambushed and killed…. I sent our parents back to Greece to keep them safe. I couldn't keep an eye on all of them."

"Killing George and Rachel wasn't enough for the head guy. He ordered Jason to be killed from the confines of his prison cell. I was walking down the street with Jason strapped to my front when a contract killer aimed a silenced Luger at my chest. I managed to disarm him and shot him with his own gun. It was just luck he aimed the gun close enough for me to make a grab for it, had it been a sniper we would both be gone."

"That night I moved us both to my fishing boat. It was all done by stealth, an hour later my house burned down. We made a dash for it. We've been at sea for a long time, Sam. Then, like you.. I called favours from friends. It was epic just to get here."

Sam poured them another glass of wine, he coughed silently, "Jason…. he has blue eyes… yours are brown so maybe he's not yours and perhaps you're not as guilty as you think you are."

Alex tried to smile, appreciated that his friend was trying to make him feel better about himself, "I'm guilty, Sam, as sure as hell I am. I'm an ass. Anyway…. My mom had blue eyes. My step-father had green eyes. George had every light brown eyes and Rachel had baby blues. Hell, how do we even know?"

"You can order DNA testing these days by correspondence," Sam offered trying to be helpful.

Alex shrugged, "Does it matter? As far as I'm concerned, he's my son. Whether he's mine or George's."

"Yeah, it does matter… for Jason. You gotta think of him, buddy. He may have inherited something from his Dad and if the Dad was George… buddy… you wouldn't want to have to tell him when he's 18 and testosterone-driven that you're not his father. That's a recipe for another Greek tragedy."

"You're right… he needs to know…" Alex stood up to shoulder his backpack, "Now, you know the story. Stay here tonight and get back to my boy tomorrow morning. If I don't make it, give him your name. He can't live on as an Apostolou, the asshole on his tail will keep looking for him to the ends of the earth. Get him a passport as a Braddock and take him to New Zealand to start a new life. I have a friend there who will adopt him as his own. Blondie, promise me. Take him as far away from America and Greece. Promise me."

Sam squared his shoulders and puffed his chest out a little, "Buddy, you're not fighting this alone. I'm comin' with you. What's this non-sense about taking Jason to Middle Earth? You've already delivered Jason to the safest place on earth. Ahnah would look after him, right here, in the one place where she commands an army of Commandos."

Realisation dawned on Alex – he had made the right choice this time. He exhaled and smiled, there's hope for redemption after all.


	7. Intel

_Author's Note: In my fan fic stories, Spike consults for Canadian Security Intelligence Service. Please read "Sealed, Never to be Opened" and "The Wolf" to appreciate what Spike has done for the intelligence community._

_My original character Yoh-Lin Tee appeared in the stories, "Weapons of Mass Destruction" ,"Hell Hath No Fury" and "Treasures."_

_Geeks United was first introduced in the story "Weapons of Mass Destruction" and were featured again as a group in "A Pleasant Surprise." _

**Intel**

The smile was telling. He had gotten through his friend, "So what's the plan?"

"I asked a friend to gather some intel, so far, I'm still waiting. But I know they're here so I'm goin to do a stake out at the Fir River Ranch Bed and Breakfast."

"Why there?"

"It's the best accommodation here and the most popular, so I'm starting there til I hear otherwise from my friend."

"That could be a waste of time and energy, let me call someone at SRU." Sam fired up his personal phone. There were 10 messages from Jules. _She's worried_. He ignored them for now although he felt a pang in his heart. He pressed a number, the call's recipient picked up readily.

"What can I do for you?" Spike Scarlatti, elite police and techno whiz replied. The voice slightly high pitched and still energetically cheery even after a gruelling 10 hour shift. He had just gathered his things from his locker and was on his way home.

Sam went straight to the point, "I need some information."

"Sure, what in…fo..?" Spike turned around slowly, he felt a laser sharp sensation at the back of his head_. Oh, oh._ He grinned at her rather foolishly, hoping he hadn't given anything away. Sam felt it too, "She's there, right?"

"Ah hah," was all the Italian could trust himself to say. Jules stared at him, the brows wrinkled and the lips tightened. Spike flashed a smile at her pretending he was talking to someone else. He hurriedly turned back and fast walked to his car. He could feel her boring a hole at the back of his neck, it wasn't a happy sensation.

"Is this top secret? Can I share it with her?" The Techie skipped towards his car, opened the door, slammed it and fired up the ignition in the space of 10 seconds_. Fast is good_.

Sam didn't answer instead he asked Spike to let him know "ASAP" if there was a flight that arrived from the U.S. mainland with suspicious passengers.

"Define suspicious." Spike wasn't being cheeky; he just needed to narrow down the parameters.

"A group. May have arrived in the last 24 hours. May have originated from Florida, or may be not. May have arrived by chartered plane. Spike, use your powers and your sixth sense. You'll know what you're looking for when you see it."

"I'll be at Apartment 7 in 10 minutes, give me half an hour." They hanged up just as quickly.

Sam put his feet up, turned on the television, looked at Perseus and patted the seat next to him, "Now we wait 30 minutes."

"Seriously?" said the Greek.

"Seriously," replied Blondie.

Spike reached his secure building and speed dialled Winnie on his way up onto the second floor, he told her he'll be another hour and then he's all hers. His lovely wife laughed and said it was ok since her lover could keep her company for just as long. The Techie smiled and was lost for words. They ended the call with "Ti amo."

He reached the landing and nearly had a heart attack when who was waiting for him at the door but Jules "the Sniper" Callaghan. "You're lost, Miss?"

She smiled and said, "Cut the crap. Open this door or I'll kick it in."

Scarlatti's eyes widened and feigned panic, "Oh God, you're here to kill me aren't you? Who sent you?"

Jules was having none of it, "Now, Officer Scarlatti. Now."

"Ok, violence isn't the answer," he said as he punched in his code. They stepped inside and the lights automatically turned on. The visitor sat in the middle couch, waited for the television screen to come down. She could smell the coffee maker brewing Spike's coffee blend, she twisted around to have a view of Spike in the kitchen, "I wanna double-double, thank you."

Spike offered her a teeny tiny smile, shook his head from side to side and called Sam, "Hey bro, I found a stray at my front door. Funny, because this kitten talks."

"I heard that," hollered Jules from the living room. The techie laughed and said "Catch." Jules caught the mobile phone easily, "Hello stranger…" She made her way to the bathroom, Spike headed to his office. _I'll leave them to sort their shit, I have my own to sort._

With a mug of cappuchino in one hand, he pressed a bar on the keyboard with the other. His CSIS-issued computer came to life, a message from his handler, Yoh-Lin Tee, the best Senior Analyst in the country's intelligence services literally sprang up on the screen. He ignored it. Another message came up, "I know you're there." Spike typed, "Thirty minutes. I just need to track something down ASAP." Just as quickly, Yoh-Lin dematerialised.

As usual, his first point of contact was Binary, member of Geeks United. She ran Airport security and one of the best in the business. "Hey," she said cheerily. "Don't tell me, you're in trouble again."

Craters appeared on his cheeks, "Not me personally but I need an urgent favour. Can you give the passenger manifest of all arrivals to Hudson Bay both commercial and private planes in the last 24 hours?"

Binary laughed, her unruly strawberry blonde hair straying to her face, "The question isn't can I. The question is would I."

The Techie went on the charm offensive, "I know you would cos you adore me."

"Like I adore my dog," she replied cheekily.

"You hurted my feelings," he said in a display of appealing child-likeness. He turned serious just as fast, "Please do this for me, pretty please? It's a matter of life and death."

"Just because you asked nicely…" He heard Binary typed on her keyboard. Ten minutes passed before he heard his computer "ping".

"Check your email, I gotta go and good luck."

"Thanks," replied Spike. He looked at the massive list and pondered thoughtfully where to start mining for information. His brain went into overdrive and started to work out what was most probable. Common sense told him to start with the chartered flights. One stood out. It arrived five hours ago, Toronto time. Hudson Bay was two hours behind. He made a note of it.

He logged the plane's registration number ("tail number") onto a free Internet flight tracking site called Flight Aware. Under the section where it says "Flight Tracker" (Flight/Tail #), he typed in the tail number then hit _Enter_. The super high tech, high spec computer immediately spat out the information he required. It gave him the type of aircraft, the origin and destination airports, the route as filed, the date of the flight, duration of the flight and the flight's status. "Well, hello…" he said to himself.

A ten-seater Cessna plane was chartered in Florida with three passengers. It stopped at an airfield in New York to pick up two more; then Boston to collect three more passengers. "Eight?" _Wow_, he thought.

He patched to the security camera at the airfield in Hudson Bay where the passengers deplaned. He scrolled back to five and half hours ago until he found a group of tough looking people walking together. Six men and two women. All carrying a case and posturing like they owned the space. His hunch told him this motley crew was who Sam was after.

Spike opened a drawer, found another phone, fired it up and dialled Sam's number; he hoped he's not still in conversation with Jules. Sam was but call waiting functionality kicked in. The blonde said, "I gotta go, hon." Jules said, "Take care."

"Tell me something Sam, are you by yourself?"

Sam was taken aback, "Why do you ask?"

"Braddock, there's eight of them. I know you're good but buddy one against eight doesn't compute."

"I didn't know you care about me," he replied jokingly. "Spike, I'm not alone. There's two of us. And don't worry, he ex-Navy Seal."

Spike relaxed, "I'm sending you photos of six men and two women. Oh and I know where they're checked in. Fir River Ranch Bed and Breakfast." _So, Perseus' deduction was right after all._

"Thanks Spike," Braddock said gratefully.

"If you need me to call the Cavalry, one press of a button…"

"I know... But everything will be fine." Sam closed down first.

Spike looked up to find Jules standing at the entrance of his office, she said, "I trust him. Them." He wasn't sure if the tiny Dynamo was just trying to sound and look brave but it was enough for him, "Yeah, I trust them, too."

Sam's phone pinged shortly, he opened the email and there - staring them on the screen were close ups of eight faces, "Unbelievable," whispered Perseus. He checked the time, "thirty minutes."

They looked at each faces, burned the features into their memory bank. There was one face Perseus lingered on, "Him," he said. Sam noticed his friend's jaw line hardened and how the brown eyes burned with rage, "He's out." Their trained eyes then zeroed in on the cases. They discussed what might be in them based on the size and shape. For them, this sort of intel was priceless.

"Can you keep your head?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," the Greek warrior replied. Somehow Braddock wasn't entirely sure. But they must do what must be done. Alex and Jason could hardly be expected to be on the run forever.

Perseus shouldered his gear, looking every inch a warrior god, "Time to take it to them."

Sam did likewise. He himself looked formidable with his gear strapped to his front, a quiver of arrow sheaths on his back and a military grade bow in his hands.

They walked with purpose with a singular thought - _It ends tonight!_


	8. Fighting Smart

_Author's Note: Fir River Ranch Bed and Breakfast is for real. No financial benefit was received by me for using this B and B as the locale for my chapter. And likewise, the management of said B and B had no arrangement with me to be featured here. It just happened to suit the story, that's all._

**Fighting Smart**

They strode towards the barn just off to the back of the cabin. Perseus removed the tarpaulin cover to reveal a well-used 2011 Arctic Cat T Z1 snow mobile, just the right vehicle for tonight's operation. He hadn't expected Blondie to join in the fun but the snow mobile was a two-seater so it wasn't going to be a problem.

It wasn't the best of its kind – it wouldn't be the first choice of any self-respecting ex-SF operator but it would do the job, which was to take them from Point A to Point B. It wasn't turbocharged but it has a 1,056 cc engine, a horizontal in-line engine and an electric starter. It has a 4-stroke engine and liquid cooling and could hold up to 10.80 gallons of fuel. But most importantly, it has heated hand grips and digital instrumentation. And all the brakes and suspension were in good condition. No drama. They were good to go.

Perseus deferred to Blondie's expertise. JTF-2 warriors were trained in arctic warfare to within an inch of their lives. If they were going deep into the blues of the Pacific or the Atlantic, Blondie would defer to his expertise and he'd be taking point. There were no needs for words. Blondie climbed in the driver's seat, Perseus rode pillion.

They both fixed the coordinates of the Bed and Breakfast into their own watches. Sam on his Suunto and Perseus on his trusty Casio G-2300; it looked as battered and bruised as him but so long as it was ticking it was good as. They did this so if they had to abandon the vehicle for whatever reason, they were not fumbling to find their way. Sam fixed the coordinates on the snow mobile GPS instrument. He handed his bow to Perseus. Then they were off.

They reached the Bed and Breakfast in just under an hour. It was not far from where they were but in the darkness it was always best to tread slowly but surely. Perseus assumed that the Team would be split into groups. They wouldn't stay in one cabin, that would be fool-hardy and these guys were too experienced to make that sort of mistake.

They parked the snow mobile behind some trees near the first cabin and covered it with fallen tree branches. Soon enough, it would be covered in dusts of snow. They huddled behind the trees to scope the first cabin out. Perseus pulled a binocular from underneath his arctic suit. Sam recognised it at once: Yukon 5x42 Night Vision Binocular Digital NV Ranger Pro. The bino was the ultimate night vision digital device. It featured 5-power magnification and large viewing range – up to 600 metres. "

"Fuck me," whispered Sam Braddock. "Who did you score that from?"

Alex Stranopoulous smiled naughtily, "I have my sources." After a minute he said, "They're either staying away from the windows or they're out." He passed the bino on to Sam who observed the same. "But the lights on, that's gotta be good news."

"Wait here," Sam said. "I'll recce closer. They don't know me from a bar of soap."

"Hey, you can't just knock on the door and ask for a cup of sugar, buddy. What's the plan?"

"I'll just act stupid," he said grinning.

Sam walked towards the cabin, Perseus following his every move. When he reached the cabin, Sam knocked. No one answered, he hollered this time, "Open the door! I said open the door or I'll kick the door down!" Still nothing. It was whisper quiet outside and inside the house. Sam was tempted to pry the door open with his "Swiss can opener" but just as he was about to check the knob, the door was suddenly flung open. He pinged the guy as one of the mob.

Sam's brain worked like a computer, scanning the facial features and assessing height, weight and capacity of the guy. He determined that Mountain Man could handle himself well in close quarter combat. _Over six feet tall. About two hundred pounds of muscles (90.71 kgs). Jailhouse tattoos on the arms. No visible Special Forces tatts on the extremity. Used to the cold, wearing standard summer clothes; but then it wasn't as cold inside the dwelling as it was outside_.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" the mountain Man asked in annoyance_. Easter European accent._

Sam backed up slowly, "Sorry, I thought it's my cabin."

Then another voice, "Who's that?" _Female. Russian._

She came to his line of sight. Petite. Soft-footed. _ Ballet lessons?_ The way she walked and carried herself, he could tell she was a martial artist.

"No one," he said. "Just some stupid idiot lost in the snow." He slammed the door shut. Sam circled the house once more. From the kitchen window, he could see them clawing at each other's bodies, _Keep it up kids. May be the last time you'd be shagging for a while._

Sam didn't bother walking back to where Perseus was. He needed to conserve energy. He stood where he knew Alex could see him with his night vision binocular and signalled. Two fingers: _Two_. One finger up_: one male_. One finger down_: one female_. He hand-signalled firing something into the air, followed by climbing a rope. _Gotcha, grappling hook._ Perseus reached inside Sam's backpack, and found the grappling hook launcher. Lastly, he put a roll of duct tape around his wrist. _Never leave home without it._

The whole bleeping place was eerily quiet so any noise they made could travel far and wide. To minimise the noise, they had to be very stealthy. They conferenced by hand-signal and whisper. Sam gave a full description of the man, giving Perseus the advantage of knowing where to hit the bastard hard. No matter how big a man is, there is one part of the anatomy where pain is proven to incapacitate.

Sam indicated he was scaling up to the second floor using the grappling hook. Perseus would have to knock on the door hard to create a distraction. They set their digital watches on 10 seconds, allowing Sam time to go around the back of the house to position himself. They had to do this with precision. Eyes on their watches.

On0:00, Sam launched the grappling hook. The projectile was propelled by compressed air which meant the flash was eliminated; the noise level was low and most significantly, no ignition trail. At the precise moment, Perseus banged on the door like he meant to unhinged it.

The grappling hook caught on to the roof, and the white-clad warrior climbed up. His arms muscles tightened with the effort but he was up at the second floor window before Mountain Man and Ballerina could zip into their pants. He taped the glass with duct tape before smashing it with his fist. And, he was in.

Mountain Man huffed and puffed to the door, opened it wide and received a boot to his manhood. He was bent over in pain. Perseus gave his high-bridged nose the good news with his knee. The Greek couldn't afford to give the Eastern European a chance to regroup or it would be a case of fight to the death. He just needed him to know who's the Boss here. And the sooner he could persuade him that he, the mighty Perseus, was not someone to be trifled with, the better.

Sam was inside and down the landing of the stairs when he spotted Ballerina aiming a silenced Luger on Perseus' bulk. There was no time to hesitate. "Perseus, gun!" The Greek ducked for cover and Sam flicked a Ninja throwing star at the woman, and hit the inside of her trigger arm. _Bull's eye._

She removed the throwing star and flicked it back to him but it wasn't as easy as it looked. Unless you knew the right technique, these throwing stars were useless. Sam replied with another and another in quick succession; the Ballerina dropped the weapon and made a ran for it. _No, no, no._

They couldn't afford for her to escape and alert the other. Sam gave chase and attempted another throw, this time by some fluke Sam hit woman's shin. She wouldn't be going very far and fast.

They tied the couple up. Perseus spoke to them while Sam helped himself to hot tea. The Greek gave them an option to bail out of the hit. The two didn't take much convincing that killing an innocent 18-month baby was lower than low. A bright blue-eyed photo of the tot did a good job of that.

They agreed to leave first thing in the morning but…. they explained they had already been paid their sign-up fees of $50,000 each. U.S. green bucks. "Make sure Mr Lo does not come looking for us because mark my word, you wouldn't catch us unaware next time around."

"I give you my word. Don't worry about Mr Lo. He wouldn't be around to look for you and your $50,000." Perseus apologised for the pain they caused them, "We'll leave you two tied up but we'll be sending a medical team."

Sam collected his Ninja throwing stars and his grappling hook, Perseus his roll of duct tape and then they were off to seek out the others.


	9. Winning Heart and Mind

**Winning Heart and Mind **

Two down, six to go!

They confidently walked out the first cabin but didn't get very far. They heard it first before they saw the beam of light; a snow mobile heading in their general direction. They looked at each other. The light was getting closer. There was no way to re-enter the house without being seen and no way to make it back to the tree line. Whoever was on that snow mobile was headed for the cabin so they dropped down onto the snow and tucked themselves into a foetal position. In their white arctic suit, they appeared like lumps of rock on the snow. They were camouflaged in their environment.

The snow mobile stopped inches from Perseus' head, it took nerves of steel not to jump out of the way. He counted on the driver to avoid the lump of rock that he appeared to be. Hitting a rock on a snow mobile at 35 kpm was asking for disaster. It was with a huge sigh of relief that the driver did indeed swerve to avoid him and Braddock for that matter. Sandwiched between the two of them, the guy didn't stand a chance in hell. Perseus and Sam sprang up to their feet and gave it to the newly arrived. Perseus who was closer and whose arm's reach was longer dropped the man with a left hook, Sam caught him on the way down.

They dragged him back inside. Sam headed back to the kitchen and made himself something to eat, all this action was making him hungry. It would be a while, he knew this from experience. "Alex, sandwich?"

The Greek grinned widely, "Thanks Bro. Meantime, I need to ask this new friend of mine some questions." He tied him up with duct tape. The guy was winded but has since recovered. He's alert to his situation now. To his left was Mountain Man tied up with Ballerina, he noted she was bleeding. A blonde guy was stuffing himself in the kitchen, he didn't know who it was and what part he played in this game of cat and mouse.

But he recognised the Greek from photographs. He was their quarry. "Fuck you," he said as he glared at Alex. The accent was English. _Cockney._ But his Middle-Eastern looks belied that. England has a huge migrant population from every nation on earth but this guy was as English as English could be.

"Not interested," said Perseus. "Afraid you won't be doing any of that shit with me." He circled the Englishman, studying him. _Not Special Forces. Not gang member. So what are you? _He suspected Parachute Regiment. There was only one way to be sure. "Queen's Regiment," he said. He got the desired reaction, "Queen's Regiment," his captive sneered. "Crap Hat."

Nothing was more insulting to a _Paras_ than to be mistaken for anything but. The Paras considered themselves the best of the best in the Queen's service; and their distinguished military achievements prove that to be so! They took pride in their Red Beret, so much so that they referred to all other regimental caps as "Crap Hat." Only the Red Beret mattered. As a crack unit, the Parachute Regiment also has the highest acceptance rate for candidates into Special Forces selection. And at war, they were the Troopers to send in.

"So Parachute Regiment." Alex muttered with admiration. "What are you doing with this mob?" He didn't expect an answer. It was rhetorical. Moot and academic! Men trained for war were often not trained to transition to civilian life and therefore survived doing what they were trained to do in the first place: Kill.

Sam handed Alex a ham and bacon sandwich. They've been trained to eat, drink and sleep any time they could. _You just never know when your next one would be. _The Greek squatted in front of the Paras, chewing slowly and enjoying the moment. He spoke again only when he's finished the sandwich. "You've been after me, why?" The guy didn't answer.

Alex tried again, "You've been after Jason, why?"

The Paras stared at him, unblinking. Alex produced a coloured photo of the baby, his son. "This is Jason. Did he tell you before he roped you into this that you're goin' to kill a baby?" He paused to allow the Englishman to absorb the news.

"He didn't. I thought so. Mate, we have no quarrel. You don't know me. I don't know you. You don't wanna die for this shit." He glanced at the tied up duo, "They told me you guys have been paid $50,000. Take it and walk away. You don't need this on your conscience and I don't want your death on mine."

Sam tapped on his watch, indicating they've got to move but Alex wasn't done. He spoke again to the bound trio, "Just so you know… I'll tell you why he's after me." He repeated the story for their sake.

"He killed my brother and my sister-in-law. He has more than gotten even. . My brother didn't kill his son. He killed his son by taking him there. Let's let it go. Do I have your word?"

The Paras replied, "If we don't finish the job, he'll be after us next."

"I promise you. No one will go after you and your money. You've earned it."

"Ok, but you've gotta let us go."

"Someone's coming in the morning. You've only got eight hours to wait."

"She's bleeding. She doesn't have eight hours."

Sam's eyes fell on the Ballerina, "Shit." He hurriedly searched for the first aid kit. He cleansed her wound with iodine and wrapped it in gauze. "You'll be right."

Alex didn't know if he could trust the Englishman but even among thieves there's honour. They may not have fought side-by-side but still they fought the same war against a common enemy. That ought to count for something. "Where's your cabin? And how many with you?"

"Two. The other three are staying in the main accommodation, that's the Boss and his security details. You won't talk off the other two, they're very loyal to him." He gave Alex the GPS coordinate for the second cabin, easier to find it then than fumbling in the dark.

"Thanks. I owe you," he said. Alex stopped at the door. "Sam, go." Braddock obliged. He suspected what Perseus would do. He cut them loose. "Help's coming," he said. The three nodded their appreciation. He won their heart and mind.

Three down, five to go!

They rode the snow mobile back to the tree line to retrieve their gear. With a snow mobile each, travelling was much better.

But as soon as they were away, the Paras called his mates.


	10. When the Hunters Become the Hunted

**When the Hunters Become the Hunted**

The Paras phoned his mates to let them know the Greek was coming their way accompanied by an unknown soldier. They let him live and in fact had let him go along with the two others, "He's not who we're told he is." He told them of his decision to ditch the contract, "Not worth the pain, mate."

"Roger that," replied a gruff rasping voice, the result of two packets a day smoking habit, of another former soldier now killer for hire. The two huddled to discuss what to do and came to a decision that, yes indeed, it wasn't worth the pain. They've been paid and that's that. But they had to have a guarantee that Mr Lo was not leaving the island except in a body bag. They hanged a white sheet on the front door and waited patiently for the two assaulters to arrive.

Perseus and Blondie arrived stealthily having ditched the more powerful snow mobile midway through to the second cabin. They preferred the slower and less grunt-y engine of the 2011 Arctic Cat T Z1. Sam stopped the snow mobile about 10 feet from the main door, just off to the left, the best blind spot on approach from the house. Perseus surveyed the cabin with his bino, he spotted the white sheet. He couldn't miss it if he tried, "What do you think of that?"

"Only one way to find out," he said. He throttled the engine and moved them forward slowly, til they got to about five feet from the front door. Perseus disembarked.

"I'll cover you." Sam adjusted the night vision goggle on his face.

The Greek god softly padded on the snow towards the house. The blonde warrior positioned himself behind the snow mobile. He took an arrow and drew the bow string back until the bow was at full draw. He secured the arrow to the string via the nock. The energy stored in the bow was now quite significant. All he had to be sure now was hitting the target. He was like an apparition on the snow. Not even the barest outline of his silver bow could be seen with the naked eye in this arctic condition.

Perseus was at the door now. The moment of truth was about to be revealed. The white flag as a symbol of surrender has been used as early as the AD 25 by the Chinese Han Dynasty. But the use of white flag as a means of deceit has been just as old.

Sam relaxed the fingers on the string; ready to let fly the arrow which would be released with incredible force. When the arrow hits its target, the prey wouldn't know what hit him. There would no clicking sound of a weapon being readied to fire. No flashes. No warning. Just the silent spinning in the air as the arrow travelled at speed into target.

Perseus pulled the white sheet off the door to give Sam unhindered view of the doorway. He was hyper-alert, ready to drop down and roll off the line of fire should it come to rat shit. The door was slightly ajar. He opened it with his foot ready to spring back in case it was rigged with explosives. It revealed the form of two men seated on the couch. The house was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a lamp behind the men. Perseus didn't step inside until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness.

He signalled Sam that everything was fine but Sam didn't break cover. Until he knew more, he would remain in the shadows. He counted to 10. If nothing untoward happened then he'd know it was safe. It didn't take trained killers 10 seconds to kill or incapacitate a man. If it did, it'll be him in the body bag.

Ten seconds passed, Sam padded towards the house. The bow and arrow still at a ready. He spied Perseus' broad back, seated opposite two men whose faces were darkened with war paint. Sam entered. The three men didn't even notice his entry until he closed the door behind him. The two men looked up in his direction but Sam didn't stop to be introduced. He left them to their business and helped himself in the kitchen. The cupboard held Mars bars, the diet of choice of Special Forces anywhere in the world. He smiled. All the action was making him very hungry. He ate one and pocketed another.

The gruff one spoke clearly and deliberately, "It's nothing to do with us. We didn't sign up to kill a kid but we're stayin' to make sure you put Mr Lo in a body bag. You know what I'm saying, bro? If you let him go, he'd be after us and then he becomes our problem. And that would make you our problem. You hearin' me, man?"

Perseus answered, "I hear ya."

But the other man sat impassively. His head down, his face stayed in the shadows. No one heard his voice. No one saw his face. No one knew how tall or how strong he was. He was an enigma. But one thing Perseus was certain. He used to be one of them.

There was nothing more to say. Alex and Sam left as they arrived, quietly.

They went to the main accommodation, it was easy to spot. It wasn't far off where the second cabin was situated and it was ablazed with light. Clearly the occupants were either afraid of the dark or weren't taking any chances.

They stopped 10 feet from the house; any closer and they would be spotted. Perseus turned to Sam, "Time for you to bail, buddy."

"No chance," he said.

"You're a police officer, what I'm about to do is murder. You can't be part of this."

"Three against one, no way. Besides, in my book it's not murder, it's self-defence."

The Greek eyed him. "I'm going to kill him Sam. It ends here or more innocent blood will be split, you hear me?"

"I hear ya." He looked up. "I need to get up there," pointing to the second floor with his eyes. "I suggest you find the box and turn off the damn Christmas light." Perseus smiled.

Sam went one way, Perseus the other. They crawled low, almost hugging the snow. Perseus gritted his teeth, _Damn it's cold_. The Greek was a man of the sea. He could easily live inside a rickety boat being tossed by the howling wind but this…. _It's madness_.

If someone was looking out the window, they would appear stationary, part of the landscape. But it was hard going. Crawl fast and the game would be up. So inches by inches it was.

When he reached the side of the house, he looked for the box. He found it. He didn't know where Sam was. They didn't have Comm link since he didn't count on the Blondie inserting himself into his operation. But judging from the distance they both crawled from, he assumed Sam would have reached his desired position, too.

The minute he cut off the power source, Sam fired the propulsion grappling hook. This time he ignored finesse and stealth. It was all about aggression now. He aimed at the glass window. The glass shattered into a million pieces, the noise it seemed could be heard miles away. In the peace and quiet of the snow covered region, the sound was magnified. It served the purpose of creating a sense of disorientation. Inside, Mr Lo and the bodyguards felt a foreboding of nightmares to come.

One of the bodyguards, the female, rushed up to the second floor, stumbling in the darkness.

Perseus entered the backdoor, slamming his booted leg into it, nearly detaching it from its hinges. The bodyguard rushed towards Mr Lo and pushed him to the ground. It was all Perseus needed, that extra precious seconds it took the bodyguard to pushed his struggling ward down. "Down, stay down!"

He rushed in and was nearly on top of the bodyguard in the time it took to get Mr Lo down. The bodyguard's right hand was inside his jacket, it didn't take a genius to guess what was inside his jacket. Perseus leapt in one bound and landed squarely on top of them.

He raised on his feet, dragging the bodyguard off the ground, his thick arm round the man's neck on a chokehold. Mr Lo regained composure, raised himself off the ground, remove a loaded gun off his holster and fired!

Upstairs, Sam had the advantage of the night vision goggle. He had climbed up the rope, smashed his booted legs into the remaining glass pieces on the window frame and slotted himself in, in 10 seconds flat. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly dropped his bow and arrow on the bed, positioned himself against the wall as a firearm came into view. He reached out from the side, gripped the assailant's hands and pushed down on the spring loaded button to release the magazine.

The magazine dropped out. He kicked it away. His peripheral vision followed it as it slid under the bed base. He maintained his grip on the handgun, though the magazine has been removed, he inserted his trigger finger on top of the bodyguard and it fired a live round. It had a bullet in the chamber ready to fire. SF training: _always treat a gun as if it's loaded. _

She was strong, trained in combat but so was he.

_Self-defence is counter-intuitive. _This was drilled into him in SF training. _If you want to prevent a fight to the death scenario, you need to be brutal. You don't know if your opponent may be the Olympic karate champion so there's only one way: Hard and fast._

He elbowed her** - **a solid strike into her nose. He generated enough force to break her nose and cause temporary breathing issues. They disengaged momentarily. He didn't give her time to recover. He attacked with a low-line side kick to the knee, while leaning away from her. She dropped down and was immobilised. He put a knee on the small of her back, pulled a sheet off the bed and put her in a strait-jacket. There was no way out of that one. Then he heard a live round from downstairs. _Fuck._

Sam quickly grabbed his bow and arrow, pulled on the string tightly and gingerly went down the steps fearing the worse. He had to maintain his cool, rushing in there would likely earn him a bullet in the head. He didn't come all this way to fail.

He crouched low, making himself a lower target. He made out a form of two men, tightly braced together. Perseus vision was pegged on Mr Lo, saw him aim a gun, he used the bodyguard as a human shield. Mr Lo fired and hit the bodyguard in the gut. He kept firing blindly, peppering the bodyguard's body. A bullet ricocheted around the room, finally lodging in a wall in the dining room.

Perseus dropped the lifeless body when Mr Lo paused after firing five successive shots, he dropped down to take cover. Unseen in the darkness, Sam pulled the string. The arrow left the bow. It looked like the rear of the arrow jumped out of the bow sideways. But after that initial jump the arrow looked like it was flying straight. It maintained its kinetic energy as it whistled in the air, spinning as it went.

Mr Lo didn't see it. He just felt it. A searing, barbed pain. He looked down. An arrow was sticking just under his collar bone. He dropped the gun and instinctively pulled on the arrow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Perseus spoke calmly but with menace.

"Fuck you," he said.

"Enough blood has been split. Enough is enough. The choice is yours. I'll let you live if you leave us alone."

"What point is living when my son is dead? I will not stop until your brother's son is dead."

"He's my son, too. So I'm afraid I can't let it happen."

"Then kill me or consider him dead."

Sam turned around. He didn't need to see what happens next. He picked up the bodyguard's gun, tossed out to the snow. Someone will find it no doubt when the snow thaws in the summer. He slid down the rope and retrieved his propulsion grappling hook, behaving as if it was just another day in the office. He walked to the snow mobile and waited.

Before he reached the all-terrain vehicle a shot rang out for the third time that night. He knew then that it was over. In the end, it was Mr Lo who couldn't live with himself for his son's death. He knew deep down, despite the blame he so readily impute on others that it was his fault and his alone. His sin and his alone.


	11. Gay Excuse

_Author's Note: Those who are familiar with my writing style know that I try to inject humour in my stories. Story-telling is like cooking, mixing it up a bit spices up the flavour. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

**Gay Excuse**

Braddock turned on the ignition. The snow mobile's headlight came to life, illuminating the front of the house. Perseus large frame filled the doorway. His white arctic suit splattered in blood, thankfully not his own. In the spotlight, surrounded by blackness, he looked like a ghost.

Sam watched him for a moment, and absent-mindedly peeled the wrapper of a Mars Bar. It took just two big bites of the confectionary for it to be consumed. He pocketed the wrapper as he chewed on the chocolate, nuts and caramel combination. He felt as Perseus looked, drained and spent.

The ex-Navy Seal seemed unable to take another step, until Sam beckoned him forward, "We gotta go, buddy. The posse's gonna be here soon."

Alex took one heavy footstep towards the blonde, and then another. _It's over_. The very thought that he and Jason were free produced so much endorphins in him, his heart has palpitations. Just minutes ago, his body was so pumped full of adrenaline he could literally wring the life out of a dozen men. Now, his body was full of happy chemicals and his legs felt like lead.

Sam straddled the snow mobile, "I'm popped, man. It's 4am, I'm dying for sleep." Perseus rode pillion again. Barring any accident, they should get back to the cabin in about an hour. There was no need to remain in shadows anymore. Sam flicked the headlight on high, alert for other incoming vehicles. With the unmitigated ruckus they caused, the cavalry would have been alerted already but how soon they could be mobilised was another story. But they were not lowering their guards down, not now they were close to the end. Operations have gone to shits because operatives became careless, not happening today of all days.

It was a little past 5 in the morning when they reached Perseus' rented cabin. They hauled their gears up to Alex's room and were very tempted to collapse in a heap. But training prevailed upon them to get rid of their tattered and blood soaked clothes. They mentally entered a zone, ignoring their screaming bodies and its need for sleep and in Sam's case, more food.

Both had another surge of energy, a second wind. Without speaking another word, they proceeded to undress down to their thermals, repacked their gears to store the arctic suits to the bottom of their rucksack to be properly disposed of later. It wouldn't do just to toss them out in the garbage bin.

The important task done, Sam opened a bag of protein and complex carbohydrates. He tipped the contents on the coffee table and invited Perseus to help himself. The Greek smiled at the scattered goodies and grabbed a Kit Kat. "I'm gonna take a quick shower." Not ten minutes later, Perseus was out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

The blonde warrior went next; he showered until hot water ran out. Perseus was already out to the world when he came out. He dried himself quickly and got into bed with his friend, thankful that at least it was a king-sized bed.

He didn't know how long he was out for, but Perseus wasn't in bed when he opened his eyes. Not voluntarily. He was roused from sleep by someone banging loudly on the door. He answered sleepily. "Who's there?"

"Police" was the one word answer. _Fuck, what the hell happened!_

"Coming," he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

He got out of bed and grabbed a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer shorts. Clad with nothing else, he opened the door, standing at the hallway were Asterix and Obelix in police uniform.

"Sorry to disturb your sleep," said Asterix.

"We're asking everybody whereabouts last night, sir," said Obelix.

Just then Perseus returned with an armful of food. He was carrying a brown paper with a roll of French bread sticking out of it and heavens know what else.

A sudden inspiration came to Sam. He flicked his wrist just so and with a cute poker-face declared to the officers that they had been asleep all night, "Weren't we, darling?" Perseus, whose back was turned against them, visibly stiffened. _Fuck you, Samuel Braddock._

Sam tried not to lose it. He knew the Greek was swearing his head off. The two police officers bade them good-bye swiftly, embarrassed at the unexpected finding. "Who would have thought?" said Asterix, "so damn good looking…and they're gay."

Alex Stranopolous dropped the groceries on the coffee table and tackled Sam Braddock. They were in this compromising position when Asterix and Obelix suddenly reappeared. They gaped speechlessly at the two beefy men in full view of them rolling on the floor. Sam was laughing his head off as the big man straddled him.

Asterix and Obelix coughed to get their attention. Perseus turned sun-burnt red in an instant. "What?", he bellowed hardly restraining his annoyance. The two officers thought they were interrupting a romantic tryst and apologised profusely. When he regained his composure, Perseus got up and gave Sam a hand. "What do you want?" he asked calmly this time.

The skinny one said, "We need your name, sirs. For the record."

"Raf Rousseau and Spike Scarlatti," replied Sam.

"How do you spell Rousseau and Scarlatti, sir?" Sam wrote it down.

When the officers left, Perseus asked, "Who the hell are those people?"

Blondie smiled evilly, "My team mates at SRU." The Greek saw the humour in that one. Sam had to admit to Perseus that it was the most fun he had in one day.

"What time is it by the way?"

"Nearly 10," replied the Greek god, "eat up old boy. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Braddock peeled the curtain to one side. The sun he observed was shining today. _It's going to be a lovely day._ A shaft of sun ray cast its light on Perseus. His friend's profile looked serene, thoughtful. With his wavy hair and facial structure, he reminded Sam of the statue he's seen in his travel to Greece; that of a god holding Medusa's head. C_ome to think of it, he does look like Perseus. _


	12. Reunited

**Reunited**

The commandos ate brunch in silence. It's nearly over. The only thing left to do now was to strip the bed of sheets, pillows and to wipe EVERYTHING down. Sample of their DNA has been stored by their respective governments. If the room was thoroughly examined, it won't be long before all was revealed.

Without speaking another word, Perseus gave Sam a pair of gloves, surgical mask and shower cap. Duct tape sealed the gloves around their wrist. Blondie indicated he'll take care of the wet areas, so Perseus attended to the room.

Sam scrubbed the toilet and the shower, cleaned the vanity and consumed 5 litres of Domestos. Any epithelial would be degraded now. He wiped down everything they touched.

Perseus stripped the sheets off the bed. He folded the blankets, sheets, pillow cases neatly to fit inside his rucksack. He collected the pillows, those were coming with them to be disposed of. He removed their rucksacks to the hallway, it's best to clean an empty room. He vacuumed the floor and emptied the contents onto the snow. Tipping the contents into a garbage bin would like transferring the dirt and dust samples from one container to another, not good enough.

When they were done, Perseus checked the bathroom, and Sam did the same with the room. The accommodation looked and smelt better than before Perseus leased it, under a bogus name, booked online. When they left, they took every scrap of rubbish with them. They came to Hudson Bay as ghosts, they would depart as ghosts. The key to surviving black ops was consistency.

They rode the snow mobile to Ahnah, who would then return it to the rental place once they've all left the Freezer. The good weather was holding. For Alex, the two hour trip felt like a day. He hasn't seen Jason for four days. The longest they've been apart since he got custody of the wee baby.

Sam could feel the anxiety rise up within Alex. He focused and lasered on. Every now and then, he checked the GPS just to make sure he was headed in the right direction. He didn't miss a beat. Soon they reached their refuge - the Igloo which has been both a training camp for them and a place for family reunion. A shade under two hours. A record!

The Inuit elder woman didn't know when they'd be back. They walked in the Igloo and whispered her name, to alert her it was them. "Alex! Sam!" She was delighted to see them in one piece. They rubbed noses in greetings.

"Alex, he's such an adorable baby." Ahnah cooed before handing Jason over to him. Sam looked on with envy at the Greek. The big man was comfortable with the little bundle in his arms. Not shy to "ooo" and "aaahhh" in the presence of other people. The tenderness, adoration, love, devotion he saw in Perseus' eyes made me think of fatherhood. He wished for a child. His own. His and Jules'.

He snapped out of it, walked out and fired up his encrypted phone. "Ham, Sam here."

The fighter pilot was happy to hear from him, "Mission accomplished?"

Sam smiled, "You can say that. Oh, ah, I need a lift home."

"Sure! Same place, tomorrow 0800. The chopper can't land." Sam knew very well what Ham meant.

The chopper hovers at about 200 feet. Crew tosses out a rope to the soldier on the ground who then has to hook himself to the rope. The soldier is hoisted up to the chopper as it flies off. The rope comes with a device to hook onto.

The blonde warrior warned Ham not to leave him dangling on the rope this time, like he did in Kandahar as a joke, "That would not be acceptable."

Ham pretended to sound hurt, "Will I do that to you?"

"Buddy, trust me, you'll never know the GPS location of the parachute," he said laughing.

"Fuck you," said Ham laughing.

The parachute JTF-2 uses to HALO and HAHO costs CAN$80,000 each. The loss of one over a non-combat, non-special operations activity would very likely result in a disciplinary action for the personnel involved. So Ham better behave himself.

"Use red flare, easier to spot."

"Roger that." He didn't think it odd to be using military speak again after five years. What they say is true, you can take the boy out of the military but you can't take the military out of the boy.

His Inuit mother came out looking for him. "Lunch," she said. She hooked an arm around his. They haven't seen each other for five years but it seemed only yesterday Sam was training to become a warrior. She patted his arm, "Good to see again Blondie."

He replied, "Good to see you too, Ahnah."

They ate traditional Inuit food, after filling his gut, Sam excused himself and slept the sleep of the dead. He has earned the right to switch his light out. Perseus on the other hand has earned the right to father his baby.

Ahnah disposed of the bloody arctic suits and the sheets and the garbage. She has become an expert in disposal and disappearance. How many ghosts has she helped disappear? Countless. On occasion, she would receive postcards and letters postmarked from countries she hasn't even heard of. She sighed, _Perseus is another she'll never hear from again_.

When Sam opened his eyes, it was only to eat dinner.

He and Perseus caught up over four hours. Midnight, Sam decided to turn in. "Buddy, if I don't see you in the morning, have a safe trip home. Let me know where you end in."

The Greek nodded, "I'll definitely let you and Ahnah know. Thanks, Sam. And if you ever need help, I'm only a phone call away." They hugged tightly.

"Semper fi," said the Greek who was a Marine before he joined Navy Seal.

"Semper," Sam replied.

They fist bumped then Sam went off to bed.

**0500** Sam was wide awake. He felt refreshed. Invigorated. Ahnah was making his breakfast. He has to fuel up, he would be skiing again to the extraction point. That's two hours of hard going even in good weather. He looked out to check the sky, _so far so good. It'll hold._

Perseus was still sleeping. Ahnah told him Jason fussed in the night so the poor dad was exhausted. He smiled. The Greek god faced eight trained killers but collapsed in exhaustion because one wee baby fussed during the night. _That'll be me in a couple of years_.

He didn't want to cut it too fine, the chopper would get to Toronto whether he was on-board or not, but he couldn't get back home without it.

He ate quickly and wore a red arctic suit, more visible from the air. He placed his bow in the front of his torso, shouldered his pack, adjusted the night vision goggle and was ready to go. Ahnah bade him god speed and watched his back disappear from view.

At **0545**, the surrounding was still darkish but daylight will come soon. The cold was biting into his bones, but after fifteen minutes of skiing he was grateful for the cold. Once daylight came, the view was amazing. It was all white everywhere, occasionally some trees would appear from a distance. _It's easy to forget where you are and where you're going._

He checked his GPS bearing now and again to make sure he was headed in the right direction. He reached the extraction zone with 10 minutes to spare. He lowered his rucksack and took out his insulated bottle, a swig of water into him and he was fine.

**0800** He heard the chopper before he saw it, as instructed he fired off a red flare. Ham saw it swished into the bright, blue sky; saw a man in red on the snow covered ground. He was tempted to leave Blondie to dangle out the chopper for a wee bit. But he didn't fancy court martial. _Damn_, he thought, he'd have to arrange for someone to collect the chute.

One of the crew tossed out a rope, over 200 feet long. Ham waited for a signal that Sam was hooked up nice before he pulled on the throttle and lifted up slowly until they got to 14,000 ft. The crew hoisted Sam as fast as they can. To be out of the chopper in the Freezer at height, one had to be crazy! Suicidal! Or both!

It was night fall when Sam reached Toronto. He returned the arctic gear to Ham minus the suit. He offered to pay but Ham declined. "Don't worry about it. We have plenty of that in storage. But the parachute, bro." Braddock gave him the details.

"Are you staying?"

"Nah, I've been gone for three days. Someone's waiting for me. Thanks for everything."

"Don't worry about it."

Sam tossed everything in the back of his jeep. He turned on his personal phone before starting the engine. There was a message from Jules saying how much she loves him and misses him. It brought a smile on his dial. He couldn't wait to get home and make…. babies. Lots and lots of babies.


	13. Talking About Baby Braddock

**Talking About Baby Braddock**

Sam drove straight home to Jules' house. In all likelihood, she'll be home by morning. Team One was scheduled for third watch this week, she said, when they spoke briefly three days ago. She had been very understanding. No other woman would have been able to put up with the crazy hours, and the frightful activities he has had to undertake, every now and then.

He arrived home exhausted and hungry but he couldn't be arse to make something to eat. He smiled at his Bergen, in it were goodies. He dug out a bag full of protein bars and complex carbohydrates; gobbled up three Mars bars, three Kit Kats, five packets of M & M but saved all the yellow ones for Jules. Not satisfied, he gurgled down a litre of milk.

Satisfied, he undressed, showered and as a consequence polluted the building's drainage system. He collected his dirty laundry off the bathroom floor. He folded them with military precision, bagged them and padded off to the bedroom to collapse.

Jules came home in the morning expecting Sam to still be away, so she was completely taken by surprised to find his open-topped Jeep on the complex's visitor car park. She was quietly relieved that he's back, _Hopefully in one piece._

She let herself in, saw some yellow M & M pieces, which she absolutely hate in a little platter with a note next to it – _cause I missed your cute face, when you're annoyed_. She smirked. His Bergen stood unobtrusively at the corner hidden behind her laundry basket. The only thing he forgot to put away was the candy wrappers. She shrugged, _No one's perfect_.

The bedroom door was left ajar; she noiselessly stuck her head in. Sam was sleeping on his stomach, naked as a baby. At the start of their relationship, she told him that she couldn't understand how someone with SF background would go to bed starker? Not that she's complaining. "But honestly," she challenged him one day, "What will you do if an enemy comes barging in? Pause to put his pants on?"

He explained that in the field, they slept in their gears, all of them, every single caboodle of it. They slept with their K-bar knife sheathed to their inner thigh, their high powered guns cradled in their arms, their side arms holstered to their sides. Ammos and grenades hanged in their webbing. But when at camp, away from battle, they slept the way they wanted and many preferred to be naked. "Less is more", he said.

He explained he could fight off and disarm an armed intruder with a towel or a bed sheet. "A towel is enough," he said. "In my business, if I can't defend myself with anything, even a paper clip, I'd be in a body bag."

He must have sensed her presence because he stirred and turned over slowly, "Hi hon, good morning."

She laid fully on top of him, "I like that" he murmured lustfully. She laughed and thumped his head playfully.

"Jules," he said, "let's make babies."

She was momentarily stunned, "What's gotten into you?"

"I mean it, let's make babies."

In one swift move, Jules was underneath him. "I mean it. It's time. We're not getting any younger. Let's get married and have babies. Lots and lots of babies."

The Wee One laughed. She put her hand on his forehead to feign checking he's not running a temperature and being delusional as a result. But as they lay in bed, he on top and she underneath, she read the sincerity in his eyes. The blue flashed in concentration, drinking in her features. "Ok," she said.

"Ok what?"

"Let's get married and have babies."

"Really?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't think I'd say 'yes'?"

"No. no," he said. "I just didn't expect you to be so easy." He quickly grabbed each of her hands tightly because he knew what was coming, "Just kidding. Just kidding."

They made luscious love that morning. Jules fell asleep having worked all night. He adoringly gazed at her sleeping form then left her to sleep off her fatigue. He left a note – Gone to meet the General.

He didn't often see his father which was neither good nor bad. Growing up, the Man of the House was hardly home so nothing's changed in that respect. But one thing was sure, he understood his father more as he matured; and appreciated him more as well.

It's been said that he's a good man; if so, then a lot of that had to do with General Braddock. The Patriarch was often away from home months at a time and the constant refrain was, "Son, be a good boy. Look after your Mom and your little sister."

The result was an honourable man who respected women and looked after them. Jules once told him that she liked that about him. That he respected the fairer sex; at the same time, recognise that they were his equal. She also made a comment once that he seemed "old fashioned" in this regard, which she said was "charming."

His father, when home, was a strict disciplinarian but was never heavy-handed. SRU Team One once attended to a critical incident involving a teenager who lashed out at his father. The confrontation between father and son escalated to a shooting incident. In the course of apprehending the son, Sgt Greg Parker uncovered the ugly truth. He told them, _"The kid didn't just attack the cadet leader. He attacked the cadet leader after he saw him grab another kid. Abused kids lash out. This looks like a kid who got used to lashing out to protect someone else, like a baby brother_."

He could never understand the likes of Rollie Strachan, Sr who emotionally terrorised his sons and beat them senseless. If not for Sgt Greg Parker, he would not have twigged that the boys suffered from abuse because it was so far outside his personal realm of reality.

His father, the General, wasn't always so. He climbed up the ranks through diligence and dedication to the Military establishment. With assignment to far flung places, he was an absentee father. His mother was in fact both Mom and Dad to him and Natalie growing up. "She's the one I fear," he once told Jules. "I don't like disappointing her."

Jules would remember what he said to her the first time they broke up. Telling his Dad, he said would be the easy part. It's his mom he was worried about, he told her in so many words, "What would I tell her when she asked when she'll get to meet you?"

And, the General for all his avowed rules and regulations was a man soft on his daughter. He smiled to himself. _Yeah, Nat got away with murder but I had to work my butt off_. _That has to change. That won't happen to us_, he promised himself. "I'll treat my sons and daughters alike. Same rules apply to all," he told Jules in no uncertain terms. She smiled the smile of the knowledgeable. "We'll see," she said with a smirk.

The General didn't play physical games with him either. They only played chess because he said his son will have to learn to formulate strategy. Be wise, clever and cunning. He taught Sam, at an early age, the virtue of thinking ahead, of taking responsibility and asking questions. His CO in the Army and later at JTF-2; and Ed Lane were the beneficiaries of that. He expressed his opinions freely, without fear or sense of repercussion. That was just the way he was raised.

Lately, he's been thinking a lot of about his father. The more he thought about becoming a father himself, the more he thought of his old man.

If he has any misgivings it was that his father wasn't affectionate. _I would be_. _I would be very affectionate to my kids._

He didn't like it that they had to call him Sir instead of Dad. But he and Nat accepted it because at the military bases where they grew up, it was not an uncommon practice_. That's not going to happen to my kids. _

He also decided that if he wanted Baby Braddocks, and he really do want them, that the changes had to happen now; between him and his father. The changes didn't have to wait till the next generation was spawned. Seeing Perseus with Jason was motivation enough.

It didn't take long, just a quarter of an hour, to reach the coffee shop. His father, as always, arrived on the dot. He extended his right hand to Sam but the younger Braddock had something else in mind. He hugged him affectionately in a manly way, in the manner Ed Lane and Greg Parker did for him and everyone on the Team.

General Braddock was shocked and stiffened at the warm embrace. Sam couldn't care less if he was hugging a non-responsive tree trunk. From now on, he, General Braddock, had to accept to be hugged whether he liked it or not.

After he had gotten over his initial shock, the General loosened up. Over beer, and light brunch they carried on a conversation that was, as always, civil and forthright. They laughed and shared stories. Since he has been to dangerous places and done secret missions the details of which he couldn't discuss with anyone, he now understood the secrecy of his father's life. They talked of mundane, ordinary things: but the real stuff, those that really mattered they would take to their graves.

In the end, to say their good-byes, Sam didn't wait for the father's hand to be extended. He hugged him fully and said, "Good to see you, Dad."

General Braddock was still in shock when he left him at the coffee house to go be with Jules. But tears brimmed in his eyes. He followed the back of the son he raised. A good man. An honourable man. _And he would be a better father than I had been._


End file.
